


I can be yours, sweet talk my heart now

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Coda, Demon Sam Winchester, Drama, Endverse, Episode: s15e04 Atomic Monsters, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e04 Atomic Monsters, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-30 22:47:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21435964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: The bunker is swathed in bright white light.But no.Something is wrong.Lights are not heavenly white.  They are dirty yellow at best.Sam is looking up at the lights in confusion when he hears a voice.“Sam,” it says desperately, “what did you do?”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester
Series: Supernatural Season 15 Codas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517966
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	I can be yours, sweet talk my heart now

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song “Sweettalk My Heart” by Tove Lo.

Dean’s neck snaps with a single tilt of Sam’s head, and he crumples on the hard bunker floor.

Sam is drowning in the voices whispering what to do. Darkness creeps like tendrils of sewer sludge around his vision. His sight is different since succumbing to the power of demon blood.

In the end, Sam Winchester is not strong enough to resist. 

The image of his older brother dead a few feet away does not register to him. Not really.

Sam Winchester died weeks ago, when the demon blood first passed his lips, when it seeped inside his tongue and the thick liquid tasted like home.

Peppermint and mistletoe and poinsettias and pine and smoke. The holidays rolled into his very own eggnog, a concoction created just for his consumption.

The bunker warning lights bathe every surface in red, and Sam finds it an apt metaphor. Everyone is dead. Bodies litter the floor as messily as crumpled wads of paper that a writer throws in frustration from a computer desk.

This is all Chuck’s machinations. It was him that forced Sam to drink the blood. It was his words that made Sam act erratically in between cases. A flask of blood here. A bout of anger there. 

Dean did not notice until it was too late.

An hour later, and maybe, Sam might have just been redeemed.

Eyes flicker from blue to black, then green to brown. He forms a fist, and the warning lights shut down. 

The bunker is swathed in bright white light.

But no.

Something is wrong.

Lights are not heavenly white. They are dirty yellow at best.

Sam is looking up at the lights in confusion when he hears a voice.

“Sam,” it says desperately, “what did you do?”

Sam tips his head down, neck aching from craning it for longer than normal.

The small figure encompassing white light precedes a shadow of wings.

His wings are golden.

Just like the blade shining from his belt.

Sam narrows his eyes as he tips his head down. “Gabriel?”

The archangel does not move once he enters the war room. His palms face downwards, as if letting Sam know he wouldn’t use his powers.

Or because Gabriel looks scared. As cautious as a mouse sniffing out a cheese trap.

“Sam,” Gabriel breathes, catching sight of a dead body, “this isn’t you. Chuck got into your head. You can still stop this before it’s too late.”

Sam bats his eyelashes incredulously. His gaze purposefully darts towards the contents of the floor, sweeping across every bleeding corpse. “I can stop?” A chuckle bubbles from his throat and falls out of his mouth. “What if I don’t want to?”

Gabriel observes the darkness in Sam’s eyes, and advances a step. He crouches a little as he moves, as if studying prey.

He is mistaken if he thinks Sam is prey.

Gabriel’s palms are held up, facing Sam. “I have no idea what’s gone on since I’ve been dead, but none of this is right. You know that none of this is right.” His gaze is hard and unrelenting. His voice is a match set alight, scathing and meant to evoke contestation. “Sam Winchester would never surrender to a villain’s machinations. He would never give up, not until the job is done.”

Sam furrows his brows. “You’ve mistaken me for my brother,” his hand motions to Dean’s body, “who I just killed,” he smiles, “by the way.”

Gabriel follows the motion Sam’s arm makes, and he flinches. He stares at Dean’s corpse as if frozen in time.

Sam continues, “what right do you have to come in here like you care?” 

He pauses, unsure where the words come from. His mouth falls shut, and he looks down.

Maybe Sam Winchester isn’t all the way dead…

Sam snaps his head towards Gabriel, who misses the pregnant pause. He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw. “You’ve only been in...what? Ten episodes?” 

“Eleven,” Gabriel replies weakly.

Sam scoffs at Gabriel critically. “Why the fuck do you care all of a sudden? Because you want Daddy to finally notice you? Because you want a purpose? Something to do in between bouts of eternal boredom and misery?” 

Sam steps forward with every question, until he is halfway across the war room. Gabriel is paces away, now. Watching Gabriel’s head tilt up to account for Sam’s towering height delights him.

Sam is the one with the power here.

“Get over yourself,” Sam huffs. “You only give two shits about cocktails and the women serving them to you.” His head tips to the side a little. “Did Chuck write you in to try and test me?” He glances towards the ceiling and mutter, “nice touch, asshole. You can erase him now.”

“I’m not,” hurt glistens in Gabriel’s eyes, “I’m not here because Chuck wants me to be here. I’m here because I handcuffed Chuck to a motel room heater grate and I need you to end this. For all of us. To save the world.” His words rumble with weight and meaning. “It’s up to you, Sam. Don’t you get it? It was always meant to be up to you. Not Dean. Not Chuck. You.” Gabriel steps forward cautiously, the space closing between them. “You’re the only one with the power to stop this. And your window to do the right thing inches closed more and more with every second I’m explaining this to you.” He pleads, “Chuck won’t last long restrained by celestial handcuffs. He’ll break free at any moment. End him. End this. Please.”

Sam Winchester punches the demon king’s heart, and he swallows it back down thickly.

They are close to one another now. Gabriel’s hands tremble, having fallen to his sides, and his mouth quivers. A pair of puppy eyes reminds Sam so much of Dean that he wants to strike Gabriel down with a slap across the cheek. His hands are so large that they probably had the capability of knocking an archangel out cold.

‘Wake up, asshole,’ Sam Winchester says. ‘Wake the fuck up.’

Chuck is out of commission. He can assume control and-

‘No,’ Sam Winchester says curtly.

He can grab Gabriel’s archangel blade and-

‘Don’t hurt him,’ Sam Winchester practically begs.

He can...he can run. He can outrun Gabriel and find Chuck himself and-

‘Almost there,’ Sam Winchester encourages.

He can...he can have Gabriel bring him to Chuck…

‘Go on,’ Sam Winchester says softly.

Gabriel can bring him to Chuck. Sam can kill Chuck with his powers.

‘And then?’ Sam Winchester prompts lightly.

And then...he can detox. He can be done. He can be free.

‘Good,’ Sam Winchester says. ‘Do it.’

The demon king realizes Gabriel is studying him with all the hope in the universe. His instinct is to cradle that fragile hope and crush it, but he is not here right now.

Sam Winchester is here.

“Where is Chuck?” Sam asks Gabriel venomously.

Gabriel smiles, and watches Sam Winchester chop off Chuck’s head in a motel room.

The name of the town is Providence.

Gabriel brings the bunker back to life, wiping the minds of all those who were killed. Dean thinks he drank too much and laughs it off. 

Castiel strides into the frame and pushes Dean up against a wall. They make out so heavily that they forget what they were fighting about in the first place.

And Sam Winchester becomes himself again, detoxing without letting anyone know he was detoxing. Weeks pass in peace, and Sam pushes Gabriel, the archangel who saved him, against a wall.

They make out until they forget about their troubles.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
